Left Field
by mynameisvaleria
Summary: Agents of Shield are notoriously cold- Agent Romana Song (apart from the shiver-inducing name) is no different. Somehow, Agent Song still searches in the ice-cold ruins for that one thing she may never find. Is the archer ever going to return her feelings? Or will her better half be someone whose heart's defrosting may be an uncertainty?
1. 0

**Author's notes:**

Hi. So, while the plot is astoundingly similar to most of the fanfiction on this site, I really hope that this will be different- where writing style is concerned, anyway. I really hope that you guys will like this. After this story is finished, there will be a parallel story called Bohemian, so look forward to that:) So without further ado, I will shut up and leave you to Left Field.

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**Left Field**  
by mynameisvaleria

_When you're tired of aiming your arrows, still you never hit the mark._

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**0.**

The air was surprisingly cool on her skin (it was surprising enough that she could feel the air on her skin), and she wished she could have more time to look at the scenery. She was afraid that she didn't have much time to spare, but she admired it nonetheless.

_Might as well._

The bright sun was lazy in the sky, radiating enough sunlight to fill up her dark little world and leave her in positivity for her lifetime (but of course, a lifetime was very little time to her now). The clouds lounged casually, weaving in and out from her vision as she continued on her journey.

Her fingers grappled blindly for the set of bow and arrows that she had had in her possession. When she found them, she could only manage to shoot blindly at… something. Where was it? Her mind was too jumbled up to recognise the direction that the sharp object had travelled to.

'Romana!'

She tried to find the source of this voice, only to fall harder when she couldn't place it.

Her name echoed in the clearing- or maybe it was only in her mind, she wasn't sure.

Anyway, she gave up on the search, and concentrated on the sky. Why hadn't it stopped? The rush was almost too much for her to handle.

Slowly, she let the dark take over her vision, feeling it all fade from her system.

Somehow, it wasn't the worst feeling in the world, knowing it was all about to end. At least she felt the sun shining down on her- at least she knew that her world had ended in a bright streak of light- at least she knew that her dark little world was no more—

And for her, it was all for the better.

'Siren is down.'

Clint Barton's world stopped spinning for a second.

_Siren is down. Siren is down. Siren is down. _

The three words echoed in his brain, each echo getting louder and louder until it was all he heard at all. He turned, and Natasha had turned to look at him, her expression neutral.

'Siren is down,' he breathed, unaware that the words had slipped out of his lips.

A flash went by his peripheral vision, and a loud crack sounded near him. His footsteps brought him closer to the foreign sound.

Agent Barton stared at the ground for a long moment, his eyes burning holes into the rubble all around him. He slowly bent down and picked up the bloody object.

_Siren is down. _

Clint stared at his dirtied hands. He was holding his own bow- the bow that he had given to her months ago.

_Siren is down. _

He picked an arrow from his quiver, and pulled the string on his bow straight. He let the arrow soar through the sky.

And after all, Clint Barton did not even know she had participated in the battle at New York.

_Siren is down. _


	2. 1

_*Warning: The main character swears- quite a lot. Hopefully not to the point where it's really annoying._

**Left Field  
**by mynameisvaleria

_I wasn't cool when I was in my teens; didn't sleep but I did have dreams._

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**1.**

Letting the arrow fly through the air, she watched as it hit the target.

Not the centre of the target- not even close. It only hit the target at the edges, not close enough to kill, or even mortally wound- just enough to wound. Always close enough to wound.

A slow clapping sounded behind her, and she did not need to turn around to know whom it was. She rolled her eyes, throwing down her bow on the floor casually. 'You know, you can really be a fucking prick sometimes,' she commented, turning to face the blonde haired archer.

He chuckled, and picked up her bow. She watched him as he grabbed an arrow off the quiver, and then pulled the string taut, letting the arrow sail through the air and right into the bulls-eye.

She scowled and he looked self-satisfied, but as he turned to look at her, he looked shocked out of his life.

(But of course, that was an exaggeration.)

'Wow, Romana, you've... changed,' he grinned.

Rolling her eyes, she sat down on the floor of the training centre. Even for Clint Barton, this was the understatement of the year. 'Changed? I look fucking white now.'

He sat down and leaned closer to her. 'Well, it certainly is a change that I welcome,' he murmured.

She smacked the side of his head, even though her heart thumped in her chest. He laughed at her reaction and sat back up. 'Just because I look slightly like Romanoff doesn't mean you could go ahead and kiss me, Barton.'

He smirked. 'Well, Natasha would kill me for even trying. So it couldn't hurt to try.'

She raised her eyebrows, standing up with a smirk hanging off her face.

He caught onto her devilish thoughts, and quickly stood up before her fist jerked back with a well-delivered punch. Unfortunately, Clint Barton had blocked it even better, and had pushed her to the side. He prepared for his own blow, which she dodged, taking cover under his arm. He growled in frustration- he hated it when she did that.

Lifting her feet, she tried to kick him at the bottom of his spine, but he quickly turned around and grabbed her leg, pulling her down.

She wanted to jump up, but her dress restricted her movement, giving him enough time to pull both her arms back, pressing his knee against the small of her back.

He pressed himself closer to her, whispering in her ear, 'I wouldn't want to mess up the makeup director's job.'

Rolling her eyes, she adopted a deeply sarcastic tone. 'I yield.'

She was released at once.

'Like I said, it wouldn't hurt to try.'

Agent Romana Song rolled her eyes yet again. 'Clint Barton, I regret to inform you that you are an insufferable little prick.'

'You like me anyway.'

A tiny smile- yet not an amused one, showed itself on her defeated face. It told him too much- he had gone too far and he knew it. 'So what is it about the makeup and outfit anyway? Is that hair real?'

She chuckled. 'You don't know?'

He thought for a while.

'The 0-8-4 on the bottom of the Arctic. I've been called over and they want the Siren to look as close to Peggy Carter as possible. Personally, it's insensitive but who am I to dish out advice?' she shrugged.

'Are you telling me your details of a mission?'

'Oh please, Agent Barton, I'm a level five. I doubt you're not going to know the details sooner or later.'

Clint Barton was never one for rules- and he did not love SHIELD as much as his red-headed fellow agent anyway, therefore he left 'Peggy Carter' alone. Her mission was hard enough, to live up to the Captain's expectations. He did not have any desire to further make this task even more impossible.

He just shrugged. 'Well, have fun.'

'I chopped off about 8 inches of my hair and dyed it copper. This better be worth it,' she chuckled.

'This usually isn't your kind of mission. What are you doing there?' he frowned.

Her lips opened and closed. 'Well... I guess... I don't know. I'm usually an undercover. It's odd, really. I think they want me to assess his mental health? I don't know.'

He frowned again. 'Stop talking. You're revealing too much.'

Romana Song zipped her lips shut.

**XXXX**

Her high heels clicked upon the floor with every step she took. _Deep breaths, _she told herself, _can't risk messing this one up or you're done- worse still, Captain America may be done. _

'Siren, hurry up, he's waking up.'

'Got it,' she uttered into the earpiece, speeding up her footsteps. Her brown suit was so constricting, she wondered exactly how they used to walk in them. She gripped her notice board tightly in her hands, blood rushing to her fingertips.

She knocked four time, her conscience slipping and making Doctor Who references in her nerves. Then, she pulled the door open, plastering a smile on her face. 'Hello. You've finally woken.'

'Who are you? Where am I?'

At that moment, all Romana Song knew was how beautiful Steve Rogers was.

'I... My name is Romana Song. You're in the hospital- you remember how you crashed the plane?' she tried in a gentle voice, putting on a kindly smile as well.

He got out of bed, and Romana's heart leaped in her chest. 'I'm going to ask you again. Where am I and who are you?'

She swallowed. He was getting agitated- she could tell that he had already found out. Seeing as to the wear and tear of the radio, she guessed it was what gave them away. His muscles were tensing and there was a permanent frown in his forehead.

Romana Song made a mistake and reached for her gun.

As soon as he had seen this, he had knocked her against the dresser and made an escape through the wall- it was the last thing she saw before the edges of her vision became fluffy and black... and the rest faded into history.


	3. 2

_I'm so sorry for being unable to update for such a long time!_

**Left Field  
**by mynameisvaleria

_If I could tell you, I would let you know._

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**2.**

She came out of the faint like how she woke up- slowly and knowingly. Her mind became conscious before her body, and she was again stuck in that annoying phase between sleep and wake.

And then slowly, her vision came back like someone had gone over a smudged iPhone screen with a towel.

She groaned- her head ached like (for a lack of better words) a bitch. For a moment, Romana Song thought she had had a night out last night and had gotten batshit drunk. But at the steady sound of beeps that sound suspiciously like a heartbeat monitor, she suspected it was something much more severe than a hangover.

Now that she thought about it, her chest also hurt like someone cracked a beer bottle on it.

It all came back to her very quickly.

She groaned again, thinking it was all just her luck. Just as she did, the door opened to reveal a certain Jaime Price. 'Got knocked over by Captain America, didn't you? Bet you couldn't resist it.'

Rolling her eyes, she felt her ribs. 'I think he broke one of my ribs.'

'He broke two, actually- and you have a mild concussion.'

Carelessly, he tossed a bouquet of flowers onto her bed. She glared at them, unable to sit up and get them away from her feet. 'Why don't you make yourself useful and get me some Advil?' she retorted, massaging her temples wearily.

Jaime laughed, but retrieved a glass of water and a pill for her anyway. She accepted, and swallowed the little life-saver. 'Ugh, I'm already on pain-killer, I'm guessing, so this is going to kill my nerves system.'

He grinned. 'Well, _Siren, _I suppose you're not as tough as you thought.'

'Hey, I never claimed I was. And you'd probably lose more ribs if you went against him anyway.'

'Might I remind you that you never fought against him. You never had any chance. And if you had, the damage would have been way worse,' he chastised, that stern look present on his face.

There was a knock at the door.

Jaime grinned. 'Rogers has been drenched in guilt the moment he realised what happened. That's probably him.'

'Come in!' she called.

Steve Roger, aka Captain America stood in the doorway in a t-shirt and khaki pants, holding another bouquet of flowers. He had the face of an apology, and she decided it was attractive anyway. He held up the flowers, and then eyed the ones on her bed.

'Hi, Captain.'

He winced. 'I'm really sorry about that,' he said, taking the flowers on her bed and together placing both bouquets in the glass vase next to her bed. She gave Jaime a 'look'. He simply grinned.

'You mean the ribs and concussion?'

Rogers winced again, and then nodded.

She laughed and brushed it off. 'It's nothing. I've had worse. Believe me, when I say worse, I mean worse. I'm with SHIELD, after all.'

He smiled, but it was forced. 'You look... different,' he commented, eyes flitting across her features.

Romana grinned. 'Yeah. They wanted me to look like Peggy Carter- I thought it was insensitive, but I'm not really one to be complaining. I'm only level 5.'

'Level 5?' he frowned.

'Level 5 clearance,' she answered promptly but shortly, not revealing anything else after this detail she had kindly offered. 'But that's not something that would interest you whatsoever, trust me.'

He nodded, understanding her need for privacy.

_She's a spy, _Steve told himself, _spies have millions of secrets they would never dream of telling you. Don't get attached to her- don't even trust her._

Steve stared at her smile again.

Nevertheless, 2 weeks after the incident, Steve was standing in a coffee shop in New York with Agent Song. She was limping slightly, the occasional sharp pain digging into her ribs- but other than that, she was fine. He had one arm around her waist, the other supporting her arm.

He had slightly embarrassed himself and amused Romana when he blushed profusely as he asked her if it was all right to put an arm around her waist. She had said, 'Well, we've been more intimate than this, Steve' (referring to when he punched her and slammed her into the cupboard) and laughed. Then, the blonde-haired superhero had merely blushed again.

'An espresso and caramel macchiato, please,' he ordered.

'Whoa, you're ordering for her already?' the brown-haired man grinned. 'When did you two begin?'

'He's just a colleague,' she smiled, and the brown-haired man gave her a little smirk that said _I won't tell_. She sighed, and let it be. She knew what these people wanted- the more she denied, the happier he would be.

She glanced over at Steve, observing his red face. 'You know, you don't have to be embarrassed. This is the 21st Century. No one really gives a shit to whether we're dating- well, if they think we are... fuck them.'

Steve looks slightly uncomfortable at her usage of swearwords.

Romana shrugged sheepishly. 'Sorry, I'll try to tone it down. I'm sorry, I'm just used to it.'

He shook his head. 'It's all right. It just...' he turned to look over at her intensely. 'It just reminds me how I'm not from this century, you know.'

Romana Song didn't know how that felt, so she didn't know what to say. At her loss for words, Steve shook his head and smiled like a gentleman. 'That's all right.'

Just as she turned to grab a seat, she caught a glimpse of light blonde. 'Whoa, Hayley! I haven't seen you in a while!'

The ombre-haired girl looked up, a smile already plastered on before she knew she needed it. 'Hi!' she exclaimed, standing up to greet her. 'Wow... I never thought I'd meet you here.'

'Me neither,' Romana smiled. She gestured to Steve and introduced them. 'This is Steve Rogers, he's a colleague- Steve, this is Hayley Grace, my best friend from high school.'

Hayley stuck out her hand, and Steve shook it with his award-winning smile.

'So what have you been up to?'

Hayley shrugged, but nevertheless, looked at least slightly uncomfortable. She looked like she did not want to reveal certain agenda. 'Nothing much. University- I'm only here for summer holidays.'

'Where's your uni?' Romana asked curiously.

Hayley tried to be modest, but Romana saw through it. 'Oxford- UK. How about you? Moved onto work?'

Romana chuckled. 'What can I say? You were much better at academics than I was,' she simply commented, waving away the fact that SHIELD had merely gotten to her earlier than the universities had.

'It was great meeting you, though,' Hayley smiled. Then she tensed up immediately, eyes narrowing at the bronde boy that was making his way towards them.

Romana followed her gaze. 'You're still with Tate?' she frowned, an element of shock present in her tone. She didn't really know what to say. She had never been fond of Tate Edwards. He had never been good for Hayley.

She nodded. 'Well, he's always been there for me.'

The temporary redhead wished she could say something more about the subject, but it would be rude- and Steve Rogers would definitely not be the one to overhear their conversation. Besides, Romana Song never learnt how to do these things- especially after SHIELD had gotten to her.

There was still one thing left she could do.

'Well, keep in touch? I've still got your number,' Romana suggested.

And then Hayley waved, and left towards Tate Edwards.

Romana's face hardened as soon as Hayley left her view. 'He's a Class A piece of shit,' she mumbled under her breath, and watched as Steve gave her a wary look.

She only smiled sheepishly. 'Sorry. I hate him.'

Steve frowned. 'Why?'

'I've always had a bad feeling about him. He was a jock at school- you know, the kind of kid that always thinks he's the best. I've always disliked him, but Hayley likes to fall for guys with muscles and a brain.'

'But why do you hate him?'

Romana looked calm- too calm. 'Because when I still didn't know about a lot of things, he tricked me into falling for him. It isn't anything... bad, it's just that I don't trust easily and when I fall in love with someone, I don't normally hold back. But he knew that and he thought of me like a challenge.

'I still had some sort of innocence back then, you know? I still thought the world was good, and I still believed in humanity. And singlehandedly, he managed to wreck that imagination,' she answered honestly, looking straight into Steve's eyes.

For some reason, Steve Rogers was someone you trusted whole-heartedly and without any doubts.

'I have the same belief in you now, so don't wreck it.'

Her words sounded emotionless, but he could feel the implication of pain and hope behind them. At that moment, he certainly was glad that he was the one to give her that hope.

He looked away for a while, and stared straight into her dark eyes, aware of the hurricane brewing inside. 'I would never dream of it.'

She smiled, the curve of her lips touching her eyes. She wondered how long it had been since her smile had reflected how she felt inside, and that alone brought yet another small smile to her face.

Without speaking, Steve handed her the cup of coffee. She sipped it slowly, the warmth of the coffee stinging her tongue. 'I usually don't drink coffee,' she suddenly commented. 'Tea usually does it for me. But today my head honestly is killing me.'

Steve smiled. 'Coffee is a life-saver,' he replied, downing his in minutes.

'Well, not as much as you, I'm guessing.'

He laughed. 'I'd like to say the same for you, Romana Song.'

'I'm a spy- an assassin, not a hero.'

He went quiet, and Romana Song regretted her words at once. 'I just... you know, I don't save people. SHIELD leaves that job for you to do. I'm the one who eliminates the unfavourable people. I'm not the kind of people that you point to and praise.'

'Well, someone's got to do that.'

'Yeah, well, Romanoff's better at it,' she laughed.

He grinned at her, silently agreeing to her statement. He wondered what it was with Romana Song, because she was much more different with other people, but he felt like he had a friend now.


End file.
